


Unveiled

by intoapuddle



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Closeted Character, M/M, alternative universe, meeting at a wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoapuddle/pseuds/intoapuddle
Summary: Dan has been invited as a plus one for a friend to a strangers' wedding.He's sure he'll feel out of place all night until he meets a handsome stranger at the bar.“It’s a wedding. It’s the weirdest situation to meet anyone and it never ends with two people getting together. Let’s just be honest and say that we’re both feeling lonely."Spanning the events of one eventful evening.





	Unveiled

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jane @agingphangirl for the beta reading and encouragement!

“I’m freezing. I hate this. I don’t want to go.”

Dan huffs. The sound errs closer to that of a laugh than frustration. He’s struggling with a mix of both. Bitter, frustrated amusement.

“I would’ve entertained that idea if we weren’t literally about to walk in,” Dan says.

Esther’s knees are shaking. It’s snowing heavily. Dan can feel the bite of the cold on his cheeks. He can only imagine what it must be like to wear a dress and thin stockings in this temperature. But Esther’s not just trembling from the cold. She’s terrified.

“Let’s just walk in,” Dan says. “Come on. I’m freezing my bloody tits off.”

Esther isn’t going to. Dan grabs her arm and opens the door. He can see the terror flicker in her eyes, but he’s stronger. He pulls her inside and closes the door behind them.

There’s piano music playing from the speakers and a murmur of conversation, clinking glass, and footsteps in the main hall. They’re alone and safe for now in the coat room. This isn’t the first step, though. This is about the tenth step that Dan has had to take in order to convince Esther that attending this wedding is a good idea.

Meeting Esther at Manchester University has turned out to be a blessing as well as a curse. They first bonded the second semester when they realised that at every party they attended, they both ended up in a quiet area catching their breaths. During an especially drunken night they shared their fears and anxieties over social situations like these. That was three years ago, and now they’re best mates and living together.

The blessing is that Dan can say exactly what he’s feeling without being judged. Esther understands completely. She reassures him that he’s perfectly capable and that he’s doing well, especially since life can be incredibly difficult for people like them.

The curse is that Dan has put himself in a role that is starting to wear on him. He’s become Esther’s safe place, and for her to be able to do anything she needs to bring that safe place with her almost everywhere she goes.

Dan has considered it time and time again. Is this how he wants to spend his time? As a plus one to a wedding with people that he doesn’t know? The idea of doing that terrifies him. He doesn’t want to, either. But he’s made up his mind about how important it is that Esther does, as she does know people here and has been invited. Dan has to be the one to make that happen.

He’s not sure if his tactic is enabling her to act on her anxiety or not. Three years in, he’s starting to think that he might only be making it worse, for both of them.

Dan takes off his coat and scarf. Esther mimics him, and afterwards they stand in silence. Dan looks into her eyes, trying to give off some type of comfort. Esther’s carefully painted eyes are wet with tears. She takes a hold of Dan’s arm, standing close, as she breathes laboured breaths.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Dan puts an arm around her. His heart speeds up. Life is incredibly lonely for him. Esther and him could’ve been good as more than friends. But that can’t happen. Dan doesn’t want it to, couldn’t even if he did. But to feel this closeness with anyone, this warmth that spreads inside, almost makes him question that. For now these small moments still convince him that straining himself in order to make Esther’s life easier is worth it.

They walk inside quietly and undisturbed. The other attendants are busy with conversation. Dan glances at their table, where they’re sat smiling and talking to people. He feels a painful sting inside. The bride has short curly red hair, beautifully complimented by her red lipstick. She looks perfectly at ease, speaking to all those people. The groom sitting beside her expels the same comfortability. He’s dressed in a dark blue tuxedo. His smile is appealing. Charming in a quiet way. They don’t seem like the type of couple who would go for a wedding of this size. 

Dan and Esther sit down at their assigned seats. Their table is still empty, and that seems to calm Esther down. They drink champagne. They talk quietly. Dan offers encouraging smiles that Esther reciprocates. The worst part is over. They’re here. The night is going to be good, they always are. It’s all of those bumps beforehand that Dan needs to hold her hand for.

Dan keeps looking back at the newlyweds. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t help it. There’s something about them that he finds relatable. But in that he sees a sharp contrast as well. They have something Dan won’t ever have. Even if Dan ends up with a guy that looks at him the way that they look at each other, this type of accepted and free public display of that is simply unattainable. Every detail could be the same. The venue, the amount of people, the love they share. And yet it wouldn’t feel accepted or free. It would feel like a statement. Like something hard-earned. No one would clink their glass and yell for them to kiss, and have it be received in the same comfortable way. 

Dan has to stop thinking along those lines. He can’t keep imagining a scenario that might never happen. He can’t compare his life with theirs.

He has to be here for Esther.

* * *

Dan and Esther begin to loosen up around their third glasses of wine. Esther chats with other people as they sit down at the table. She’s doing well, Dan notices. She knows these people. There’s a reason they were placed here. They’re friends from school, way before Esther moved from Sweden. It’s a flurry of English and Swedish, but they land on the latter for the most part. Esther’s accustomed to English now, but the other girls and their boyfriends aren’t. It’s just like Dan to be stuck at a table that makes him feel even more alienated than he already does for other reasons.

Dan’s properly zoning out by the time the first meal arrives. He barely takes in the contents of the plate before he starts chewing. He’s been doing his best, smiling and nodding along to feel like he’s some part of the conversation. Not completely on the sidelines. But it’s proving difficult, and eventually he finds himself coming back from wandering thoughts he hadn’t noticed pulled him away from reality several times.

Then he feels a nudge on his leg under the table. He looks up, almost feeling guilty. Everyone’s eyes are on him, all with expectant expressions. He can’t conceive a plausible reason for them, so he looks to Esther for assistance. She’s smiling warmly.

“Sorry?” Dan says, feeling a blush paint his features.

He smiles through the oncoming nerves. Esther erupts in laughter and their table mates follow. Dan fights the initial thoughts racing through his now intoxicated mind that all do their best to convince him what a rude, insufferable, typical _guy_ he is for letting his mind wander, regardless of the circumstances.

“They were asking how long we’ve been dating for,” Esther giggles.

There’s something in her eyes that Dan can’t distinguish. Some flicker of disappointment, mixed with a fondness. She’s not been acting like the Esther he knows for the past twenty minutes, but Dan understands all too well how easy it is to slip into some past persona upon meeting people from that time. He should pin it on that. Still, it twists inside him. If Esther ever felt something for him other than friendly affection he hasn’t been able to tell.

Dan’s mind runs through several memories of their interactions through the year as he smiles, feeling a chuckle escape him.

“Oh, we’re not together,” Dan says.

Esther gives an agreeing nod. Her foot rubs against Dan’s underneath the table. 

“Really?” says one of the friends.

She’s got bleached hair that contrasts against her olive complexion. Dan finds himself appreciating the unconventional colour scheme it creates. She looks well put together, with her formal navy blue dress and contour makeup. The hair colour insinuates that there’s something different about her. A small step outside the box. Perhaps a way to hold on to the past.

The person beside Esther nudges Esther’s side and says something in Swedish. It’s a proper theatre whisper, meant to be heard, and everyone laughs again. Esther goes bright red. Dan can see that hazardous moment her stomach sinks before it happens, and feels immediately inclined on changing the subject. He has to start engaging in the conversation before Esther retreats back into herself. She’s been doing so well being talkative and he would hate it if this one minor awkward moment that he might not understand with words deterred her from feeling pride about that.

“I really like your hair,” Dan says, after quickly scouring his brain for anything appropriate to say. “It hardly even looks bleached.”

The girl gives a wide smile.

“Thank you!” she says. “There aren’t many people that understand how difficult it is to maintain.”

“I fully appreciate the effort,” Dan grins. “Last time my hair had any bleach I was fifteen, and it was really too much. Not to mention how hideous it looked.”

The group laughs again, and Dan’s insides warm. There aren’t many things that boost his mood more than a joke that lands, especially among people he doesn’t know. The feeling lasts until he notices a few looks exchanged over the table. A knowing glance shot Esther’s way. Dan’s insides turn uncomfortably. He’s accustomed to the wordless exchange enough to know exactly what it means.

It means that they think they know him. It means they put the pieces together and have formed an assumption about Dan that they don’t see as an assumption. They see it as truth. Dan hates that it makes him feel inferior. He hates that it makes him question the topic he chose to change the conversation. Because the three small things they know about him are, to them, the only clues they need to figure it out. It doesn’t take more than that. They know that he’s Esther’s plus one, they know they live together but aren’t dating, and they know he notices and appreciates how a woman styles her hair.

But rather than wanting to shrink inside himself and to say something else to effectively twist their assumption like he’s so used to doing, a sense of pride flourishes within Dan. It takes him by surprise. For the past few years Dan has worked incessantly to accept this part of himself. He has questioned why it made him uncomfortable for so many years. He has indulged in impulses that he previously would have buried somewhere deep in order to fit some type of standard he wanted to meet. He has asked himself why he even wanted to meet those standards in the first place.

Today, he didn’t have a second thought about his outfit. He chose what he wanted to wear, only limited to the dress code. The tight fit black dress trousers were a given. The deep purple blazer with an embroidered lilac flower pattern had caught his eye in the store, and he’d purchased it just because weddings are a reason to buy nicer clothing without feeling too guilty about the cost. He hadn’t even considered the small silver hoops in his pierced ears, not beyond the way they complimented the white dress shirt. The slim black tie was the only conventionally masculine item he’d put on, now that he’ thinking about it. And that was solely for the fact that it went well with his bottoms.

Dan knows he has a ways to go accepting that sometimes, what he looks like or chooses to wear fits into the stereotypical narrative of what a man with his sexual identity typically does. He’s gotten beyond the point where it would discourage him from wearing certain items of clothing. He hasn’t yet fully come to the other side of feeling found out or caught when someone makes that assumption. What he has accomplished, although it’s small, is the ability to approach those feelings. To put himself first, and not anyone else. Because when it comes to what he wears there aren’t many instances where he has any reason not to.

Especially not when attending a wedding for a couple he doesn’t know for the sole reason of making his best friend feel more at ease. Not when he most likely won’t ever see the people he’s seated next to again in his life.

A bit after the first course is over a glass clinks. The murmur of the room fades to silence quickly as an older man stands up. He clears his throat, twists his mouth before it settles into a smile, and he gazes lovingly at the recently wedded couple. They stare back with just as much unconditional respect and love.

Dan doesn’t take much from the words he speaks. He concludes that this is the groom’s father, and that they seem to be pretty close. The man is speaking with such a dignified emotional steadiness that it takes Dan aback. His throat dries out as he fights back tears to line his eyes. He has no reason to feel anything for these people. But the silence of the room and the teary eyed smiles from the couple as the man speaks is too emotional for Dan, a perfect stranger, to go unaffected. He buries the reminder about how he’s never seen even a tease of this from his own father.

* * *

After the speech the main course begins. Someone performs on the piano meanwhile, but it’s treated as background music. Probably somebody that was hired for it, not another thing to take note of. Dan dedicates this time to talking to someone’s boyfriend. Esther’s fully occupied with catching up with her friends, and Dan doesn’t feel as guarded now that he’s had a few drinks. The guy he speaks to seems similarly out of place, and though their conversation is hindered by a language barrier it makes Dan feel more at ease. He has sympathy for him. He hasn’t understood the conversation around the table all night, and this guy doesn’t fully understand him unless Dan stays mindful of not taking use of his sometimes excessive vocabulary. Dan pretends that the feeling is mutual. He’s well aware he’s projecting his own perceptions onto a perfect stranger. But that doesn’t stop him from indulging in a harmless narrative that makes him feel better about his place at this event.

Because as things progress Dan’s ability to place himself outside the situation is lost. He tries to embrace being on the sidelines. He doesn’t flinch when Esther excuses herself after the main course is finished and there’s downtime for mingling. She’s enjoying herself. She’s catching up with friends and feeling normal. She’s disproving her own anxiety, taking another step to feeling better about situations like these, and Dan tries to feel that. But once he finds himself alone at his table while everyone else finds someone to talk to, it gets progressively more difficult to mask his discomfort.

He wouldn’t have felt like this if he were Esther’s boyfriend. Then he would’ve felt more inclined to introduce himself to the people she knows here. He could do it now, but explaining their relationship and in effect outing himself to a staggering majority of straight people doesn’t appeal to him at all. It’s already happened once, and even though Dan can’t fairly judge their reaction to figuring it out, he’s tired of being reduced to his sexuality. They could pretend to be together, but given the look on Esther’s face before, which Dan is scared to analyse, he doesn’t even want to entertain the idea. He wants to be perceived truthfully. He just hates how little control he has over which one of those truths people focus on. He hates knowing which one is most likely to stir interest. And not in the fun way, either. The only people that aren’t paired up, always man and woman, are either teenagers or children.

Dan longs for the fun part of being gay more now than ever before. He feels bombarded by the uncomfortable, awkward parts. He just wants to be reminded of why that small sense of pride came to him when he dared to leave the assumption hanging in the air. He wants to be reminded of why he didn’t attempt to present himself differently, or talk about any other interests that would be more accommodating to a group of straight people as the conversation progressed.

Dan gets up from his chair. If he’s going to be the token gay person at an event, there’s nothing he can do about it now. He walks towards Esther’s group of friends where they’re watching someone tinker with a karaoke machine. He could talk to the girls and indulge in their odd fascination with him. He could try to steer himself into feeling special and intriguing and away from feeling objectified. Right?

* * *

As he makes his way towards them, he glances at the bar area. It’s surprisingly vacant of people at the moment. There’s only a young bartender, who’s looking down at her phone with a bored expression. Dan doesn’t think, he just changes direction towards that area. He could always do with another drink before he attempts to feel anything other than what comes naturally to him. But as he gets closer he notices that it isn’t completely vacant of wedding guests. 

There’s one other person, about his height, with black hair, wearing a traditional tuxedo, and standing with his back to him. He’s leaning a hand against the bar, seemingly not occupied with any type of distraction. He’s simply standing, in a casual lean, with his feet crossed. Dan eyes the slender shape of him that’s perfectly accentuated by the most likely professionally fitted black suit. Dan allows a small smile play on his lips as he’s reminded of one of the best parts of his sexuality.

There aren’t many reasons why a wedding attendant would go to a mostly vacant area just to stare off. Not on his phone, busying himself with something important and reasonable. Just to take a breather. In Dan’s experience, the only guest that would do such a thing would be either an ex, socially anxious, or gay. 

Dan speaks a bit louder than necessary when he orders a glass of red wine. He wants to see that potentially gay man’s face. The bartender quickly fills the order and places the glass in front of him. He would have ordered something more fun to make just to give her something to do, but that idea only catches up to him after he’s received his drink. He’s entirely too focused on attracting the attention of the man beside the bar to worry his head over small acts of kindness.

The man does turn around to look at him when Dan thanks the bartender, a little louder than necessary once again. Dan looks back with some defiance. He’s not going to simply glance shyly and cross his arms, hiding himself. He knows that he wants to look. He wants to find out if there’s another person like him here. He wants to know if this man’s face is as beautiful as his body.

To his surprise, the man’s gaze doesn’t waver when it meets Dan’s. Dan swallows slowly as he takes in the pale white skin, the sharp cheekbones sitting high on his cheeks, the striking blue eyes. If Dan had hoped for another gay man at the wedding, who isn’t too far from his personal preference looks-wise, he would have scoffed at the very idea of conceiving such an unlikely wish. But this man isn’t just within the range of Dan’s personal preference. He’s not just an objectively attractive person, which is definitely something Dan would’ve gone for right now.

No, this man doesn’t just fit some odd, unspecifiable criteria. He looks interesting. He has a crooked nose and a slim jaw and sparse eyebrows. But the cheekbones and the pouted lips and the big blue eyes compliment any supposed imperfection. The quiffed black hair frames his face and accentuates the almost blinding contrast of such pale skin and such bright eyes. Dan’s reminded of how he perceived Esther’s friend’s bleached hair. This man’s hair garners the same type of intrigue. He looks like any other conventional adult with the choices he’s made for his outward presentation. But that hair is dyed black, like some personal way of mildly combatting the expectation to stop expressing yourself with your appearance once you reach a certain age. There must be a reason why a man that looks this sharp and put together would feel compelled to do so.

Dan finds it in their shared, unwavering eye contact, that’s only momentarily broken by a quick once over. Say what you will about prejudice and stereotypes, but a straight man wouldn’t look at Dan like this.

“Hey,” Dan says.

He raises his glass in greeting and takes a sip. He’s desperate not to mess this up.

But the man spins around and reaches his hand out with a well-practiced polite smile, almost perfectly masking the type of interest his eyes are displaying. Dan puts the glass down slowly. He’s aware of how indisputably flirtatious his every movement is. How calculated his hand is when he slips it into the stranger’s hand. He doesn’t grab hard, to attempt the tired old battle for dominance that simple gesture becomes with other guys. He lets himself be vulnerable, open, even if the clue is as small as a soft but firm handshake that lingers. As momentary as a quick swipe of Dan’s thumb along the back of the man’s hand.

“I’m---,” Dan begins to say, but stops himself.

The man looks fairly amused. The polite smile has shifted to one of intrigue. He takes in the shape of Dan’s shoulder without a hint of hesitation. Dan steels himself.

“Actually,” he says.

He’s about to set himself up for rejection. Hard, devastating rejection. Because once he proposes what he’s about to propose there won’t be a single way to hide what he’s really after.

“Let’s not do names,” Dan says, feigning confidence.

The man cocks an eyebrow.

“No?” he asks with a giggle. “Why not?”

That giggle is absolutely adorable. It contradicts the powerful way that Dan presents the idea. For whatever reason, Dan feels the need to be some other, confident version of himself. And despite the tension already building between them and the simmering possibility of heat and want making its way to the surface, this man giggles. He’s being open and vulnerable in his own way, and he’s blushing. Dan sort of hates himself for putting up such a front when he flirts.

“Because,” Dan says and their hands let go, “it’s a wedding. It’s the weirdest situation to meet anyone and it never ends with two people getting together. Let’s just be honest and say that we’re both feeling lonely, and that it feels even worse because we like guys.”

The puzzled look on the stranger’s face settles into understanding. Dan relaxes a bit. He leans his elbow against the bar and gives a devious smile.

“We’ll call it what it is,” he says. “We’re just looking to connect with anyone that looks at us the way that you’re looking at me right now.”

The man giggles bashfully, looks down and shakes his head in disbelief. Dan could stay inside this moment, just grab onto it and never want to leave. Because the way this man, with such a confident aura and beautiful face, melts at every one of Dan’s words is like a fever dream that goes to such an indulgent place that Dan hasn’t even imagined it. It’s absolutely perfect.

“Alright,” the man says once he collects himself. “So, what should we call each other?”

“Do we have to call each other anything?” Dan retorts.

The man shrugs.

“It’d be weird to not call you _anything_ ,” he reasons. “Come on, give me something.”

Dan thinks for a moment. He can be anything right now. Anyone. And yet his mind goes completely blank when he finally has the opportunity to choose the way he’s perceived.

“How about you choose?” Dan suggests.

“Alright.”

The man looks over him slowly, lingering at the blazer, then comes back up. His eyes are filled with such heated excitement that Dan has to look away. He’s been approached by men before. He’s had connections that he thought were perfect. But the way he feels now is indescribable. It’s such a contrast from before he made his way to the bar that he can’t push away just how hard he wants to smile or how desperately he wants to touch.

“Lilac,” the man decides.

Dan frowns.

“Lilac?” he parrots. “I might be, gay, but that’s--”

“The blazer,” the man interrupts. “It’s lilac. A lovely colour. One of my favourites.”

Dan can talk himself out of most situations when he wants to, but right now he can’t find a single word to respond to that.

The man takes a confident step forward and feels material of the lapel between his fingers. Dan feels hot all over. Just the faint touch of knuckles against his chest, and he’s done for.

“It suits you,” the man murmurs.

Dan exhales through his nose, making a unapologetically forward sound. He recovers by clearing his throat, and standing up straighter. He’s been lowering against the bar further and further without noticing. There goes his attempt at being confident and mysterious. Dan doesn’t mind, though. He finds he doesn’t mind much of anything when he’s this close to a man this attractive yet adorable at the same time.

“So I should name you, then?” Dan asks, trying to think up something.

“Striker,” the man says immediately, some childish enthusiasm apparent in his voice. “You should call me Striker.”

“Striker?” Dan retorts with a laugh. “That doesn’t seem much like you. Perhaps Greg?”

“Greg?” the man whines, stretching the vowel into two syllables. “Really?”

Dan laughs openly and the man giggles along. Dan may be trying to score, but apparently he can’t hold himself back from teasing. The reaction alone is enough for Dan to realise he wants to do it more.

Before he’s about to come up with another equally uninteresting nickname the sound of a whining microphone interrupts them. They take a mutual step back from one another, standing up fully and schooling themselves into Presentation Mode. The man looks worriedly towards the source of the sound, in the main hall. Dan simply watches the profile of his face.

“As much as I relate to this perfect display of gay fear, that was just the karaoke machine,” the young girl behind the bar says. “You’re all good. No need to worry, Phil.”

The man stares at her. Dan raises his eyebrows.

Phil.

The bartender seems to realise her mistake and clasps a hand over her mouth. But then she starts giggling, and Phil seems to have a hard time staying cross.

“Sorry,” she wheezes.

“Well, there goes my dream of being Striker for a night,” Phil resigns.

“That wasn’t ever gonna happen, buddy,” Dan teases. “I would’ve probably ended at ‘Phil’ eventually anyway.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but it’s just for show. He looks at Dan with a strange affection that seems unprompted between two strangers looking for a bit of fun at a wedding after party. Dan really has no idea what to do with that.

“Alright, why don’t you tell me your name, then?” Phil challenges. “Since you know mine.”

“Oh, no,” Dan immediately says. “No way.”

Phil whines pathetically. Dan grins and sips his wine.

“Fine,” Phil says finally.

At that, the jarring sound of an off key rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ comes blasting through the speakers in the main hall. Both Phil and Dan jump at the sound.

“Unless you want that to be the backtrack to whatever’s going on in here I’d go somewhere else,” the bartender says. “Not to mention how many people will be crowding me for liquid courage when it’s their turn to sing.”

Phil’s body stiffens at the idea. Dan watches with interest.

“Oh, and fair warning,” the bartender says, directing her eyes to Dan. “Philly over here gets a bit Deer-In-The-Headlights when he’s stressed, so why don’t you just take him?”

Dan nods, taking a couple brave steps towards Phil who is still looking back and forth between the bar area and the main hall in fear. Apparently she’s pegged him extremely accurately, because he doesn’t even flinch when Dan slips a hand between Phil’s arm and torso to pull him with him. 

“Oh, and take this,” the bartender says, offering a comically large unopened bottle of red wine. “If I have to serve another red wine I’m going to explode. And you look like you need it.”

She must be an angel manifested in the shape of a petite, oddly forward woman in her early twenties, Dan thinks. If Phil is a perfect blessing upon this uncomfortable evening she’s a close second. Dan doesn’t know if his smile is enough to convey the gratitude he holds towards her, but the dismissive wave of her hand when he takes the bottle tells him she wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. 

“Just go,” she says. “And take good care of him, Mr Lilac. He needs it.”

She ends that with a playful wink. At this point Phil seems to be aware of his surroundings again, and he makes another endearingly exasperated noise. Dan starts to pull Phil with him and he goes. The wine bottle is heavy, but Phil grabs the bottom, so they walk in a strange way with a heavy bottle balanced between them and their arms still linked.

Before they leave the bar area Phil stops them in their tracks and looks back at the woman behind the bar.

“Thank you, Dodie,” he says.

“No worries,” she says in an upbeat tone. “Have fun!”

Phil nods, then looks back at Dan. Dan feels his heart accelerate in his chest.

* * *

With swift, clumsy feet they make their way up the impressive stairwell. It’s an impressive building over all, and despite the giggly, secretive whispers they exchange as they try to find their way to a decent room Dan takes it in. Large, victorian windows. A high ceiling, even on the second floor. A chandelier. It’s almost eerie, how dark and silent this level is compared to downstairs. A contrast that Dan would normally reduce to a lazy metaphor for the duality within himself. He’s not feeling that way now, though. Now he’s bubbling with excitement even when Phil almost drops the bottle and Dan has a moment of panic as he scrambles to his knees in order to catch it. If it had reached the floor, even if the thick glass might not have broken, the sound alone would have been loud enough for someone downstairs to hear.

Dan coughs a laugh after the rush of adrenaline evens out. Phil’s frozen to the spot, slippery hands tight on the neck of the bottle and Dan on one knee, supporting the bottom against one of them. Dodie had been very correct. Phil is a deer in the headlights. An adorable one at that.

“Sorry,” Phil whispers hurriedly, as if any volume of their voices could be a match to the karaoke sing along going downstairs.

“You bloody idiot,” Dan grins.

“Is that how you start a proposal, Lilac?” Phil asks. “Really?”

Dan’s heart soars at the nickname. He had almost forgotten about it. That happy rush is trumped by the word ‘proposal’, though. Dan frowns in confusion.

“You’re on one knee, presenting an extremely large bottle to me,” Phil explains with a chuckle.

“Ah, yes,” Dan nods. “Yes, that’s how I’d start a proposal.”

Dan’s about to get up when Phil stops him.

“No, no, no,” Phil says. “Go on. I want to hear it.”

Dan’s cheeks burn but he forgets himself. Phil’s expectant eyes are enough to convince him to let himself be ridiculous.

“Yes, okay,” Dan says. “So. You bloody idiot..”

Phil giggles. Dan schools his face the way he learned to back when he was acting in plays as a teenager.

“You’re incredibly ridiculous,” Dan says. “And somehow very hot at the same time. I can’t wait until I can take advantage of that fact.”

Phil gulps at that. Dan leans into it.

“So if meeting and fooling around at a wedding isn’t enough,” Dan says. “Let’s take this straight nonsense further and legally bind us into a contract that will be broken within days. Will you, Phil, take my lilac hand in marriage?”

Phil’s eyes shift so quickly at the words. Amusement, eye rolls, and then some type of painful hope that’s so quickly guarded by something else that the dumb joke almost makes Dan feel bad. Dan is very familiar with the glimpse into what normal life feels like, at a wedding like this one. He would be stupid to assume Phil didn’t feel the same thing.

“Yes,” Phil says when he’s recovered. “Absolutely.”

He looks down at the bottle.

“Where’s my ring, bitch?”

Dan laughs loudly and Phil shushes him through the chuckles. 

“It’s at the bottom of this bottle,” Dan manages through the laughter, gesturing over the ridiculous size of the bottle. “Drink up.”

Phil shakes his head, giggling. He pulls the bottle off of Dan’s knee and places it on the floor. Getting that weight off is an unexpected blessing. Phil takes Dan’s hand and pulls him to his feet. They end up chest to chest, in that wide hallway in darkness that’s only mildly broken by a street lamp outside the window. If it had been any other situation, Dan would’ve found it romantic. Maybe he finds it romantic now.

Maybe the way Phil holds his waist gingerly, both of Dan’s hands in Phil’s between their chests, feels a little bit romantic. Maybe Dan should let himself feel that. Even if it’s stupid. Even if it doesn’t make sense.

Phil’s eyes brim with something similar to what Dan’s feeling, and so their first kiss ends up being gentle. Gentle, yet loud, and so much that Dan wants to sob. When he first looked at Phil he wanted to lean into anger, and rejection, and all the stupid things feeling misunderstood brought forth within him. He wanted to take it out with Phil, turn that rage into a different kind of heat that would make him come. But now, after only knowing Phil for about twenty minutes, Dan realises that that’s not how it would work with him. Phil is reliable and funny and ridiculous, and he holds Dan like he matters and presses their lips together as if this moment means something.

Dan smooths his hands over Phil’s chest and Phil cradles Dan’s head in his hand. Their kisses deepen. Dan is vibrant with want. That want is different to what he’d thought he’d wanted. This is a longing to be held and kept by a strange man that matches Phil’s description. Dan hears the pathetic whimpers escaping him as he clutches on to the material of Phil’s suit, but if Phil’s heard the emotion behind them he doesn’t mention it. He simply keeps them there, holding Dan’s waist and face, as if he knows that that’s all Dan wants right now.

Phil pulls away from the kisses and Dan nearly looks away. He wants to be this other person that gets to choose how he’s perceived. To seem confident, assured, in a rush to have this one time thing with a stranger and then discard it. But they’ve only ever had a kiss and some ridiculous banter but Dan already knows this is a moment he won’t forget.

Dan does look at Phil, though. He’ll be perceived in any which way he can’t control, but he wants to see. He wants to see if there’s something edging close to what he’s thinking in those bright blue eyes.

There is.

“It’s a bit like dancing, this,” Phil whispers.

Dan smiles, relieved. Phil’s not wrong. But when Dan listens to something other than the confused thoughts ravelled in his mind he hears a muted slaughter of _Can You Feel The Love Tonight_ , and it pulls him an inch out of the moment.

“Could we dance to anything else, please?” Dan asks, sucking his lips between his teeth in an effort to hide his laughter.

Phil grins.

“Sure,” he says. “Song seems appropriate, though. Singer isn’t.”

Dan refuses to turn that into something in his head. It’s banter.

“Yes, the singer is quite shit,” Dan agrees.

They sway a bit together regardless. Phil hums along to the melody. His voice goes lower than Dan’s heard it. He can feel it against his hands, the vibration of Phil’s voice. Dan feels like he’s suffering and rejoicing at the same time. A moment in time, fleeting like every source of comfort has been to him as of late. Then again Dan can’t stop himself from letting it happen. He lets the comfort and validation and reciprocated want fill his chest even if he knows how empty it’ll feel once it’s over.

Dan chuckles wetly.

“What is this?” he asks no one in particular.

Phil smiles.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “But I like it.”

Then there’s a booming voice yelling _”Go Kath!”_ coming from downstairs as the song comes to an end. Dan feels the muscles in Phil’s chest tighten against his hands. Phil smooths his hand against Dan’s shoulder, straightens his posture. Something’s come up between them that Dan doesn’t understand, but whatever it is hasn’t dulled the open lust in Phil’s eyes. It’s only shifted it slightly. Added some urgency.

Phil says nothing when he grabs the bottle off the floor and leads Dan to the nearest door. He opens it up. It’s a large utility room, somehow neatly decorated with two armchairs on top of a small square carpet in the middle despite the walls being scattered with tools and brooms and other knick knacks. Phil doesn’t turn the light on. He simply closes the door behind them, puts the bottle down, then leads Dan towards one of the armchairs.

Dan sits down from the force of Phil’s body. His hands are firm, grabbing onto Dan’s biceps and pushing their lips together. The chair is large enough for Phil to sit comfortable on top of Dan’s lap, knees on either sides of Dan’s hips. Dan leans back in the chair and Phil goes with him as he mouths at Dan’s neck hungrily. Dan groans, the sensations are hardening his cock uncomfortably in the tight trousers.

Dan grabs onto Phil’s ass and pushes him closer. Their crotches come together and they moan against each other’s mouths. Dan moves his hand over Phil’s butt, breathing hard as the movement rocks them together and grants some of the friction they both desperately need.

“This suit wasn’t made for this,” Phil pants against Dan’s mouth.

Dan gives a frustrated laugh.

“Seriously,” he agrees. “Who makes these?”

Phil slows their movements, letting himself come down from whatever possessed him to take it further. It’s dark, but Dan can still make out the moment Phil turns complacent. He’s not about to take it further if Dan doesn’t insist. For some reason, Dan doesn’t feel like insisting.

Because sitting like this, trading kisses, is enough.

“People who don’t think weddings are an appropriate time to sneak off to fuck,” Phil says.

“These people have obviously never seen a romcom in their lives,” Dan complains.

“That what this is?” Phil asks.

Dan knows he’s teasing. And yet a voice inside him, somewhere secret and romantic and cheesy that hasn’t seen the light of day in a long time, wants to say ‘yes’.

“Might as well be,” Dan says instead. “Except real life is waiting just around the corner.”

Phil sits back on Dan’s lap. Dan watches him curiously. He feels like there’s so much more to unpack to this man than he originally suspected. It’s in the way he stops smiling. How he shifts focus sometimes, as if to listen to whatever’s going on downstairs. Like he’s keeping track, for some reason.

Dan realises he really knows nothing about him then. All he has is a first name. That he’s friends with the bartender. That he’s clumsy, and a bit eager, but calm and collected at the same time. Dan knows that Phil is the only person he’s ever felt this close to in this short amount of time and he doesn’t even know what role he has on the guest list of the wedding.

But Dan knows that lilac is one of Phil’s favourite colours.

“Come on,” Phil says. “Let’s not let that bottle of wine go to waste.”

He stands up. Dan follows. They end up sat on the floor, against one of the walls. Dan turns on a floor lamp in the corner next to them. It looks ridiculously expensive to be part of a utility room, but these incredible contrasts don’t really surprise him anymore.

Phil pops open the bottle, and attempts to bring it to his lips. Dan holds in laughter as he watches him struggle. Phil looks back at him, offended.

“What?” he asks. “Help me out here.”

“If I helped you lift that you’d either smash your teeth in or drown,” Dan giggles. “Or both.”

“Fuck sake,” Phil groans.

Dan looks over the wall, for anything that they could drink out of. His eyes land on a few measuring cups on top of a shelf. He gets up, takes them, and comes back down next to Phil. He sets the largest ones next to each other for Phil to fill them up. Phil starts to tilt the bottle.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” Dan warns.

If he gets red wine stains on this suit he’ll absolutely hate himself in the morning. He puts a hand on Phil’s to stop him. If his stumbling earlier was any indication of the control he has on his body, his shaking arms now are a neon red stop sign. Phil doesn’t argue. Dan takes over and fills the cups up.

They cheers and drink in silence. It seems odd, this silence. But it doesn’t feel inappropriate. Dan’s tummy warms when he swallows. Fuck, he needed this.

They get through two large cups of wine before they slump back against the wall, looking over at one another tentatively. It seems backwards, this new shyness. They started off so strong. They almost rubbed off on each other. And yet, nerves tickle Dan’s insides when he looks at how Phil sits back, looking out at the dimly lit room, with an anxious tension in his lips.

“Are you alright?” Dan asks.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Phil responds.

He pans to Dan quickly, but looks away. He catches himself, then looks back. This time he doesn’t look away. Dan smiles. Phil smiles back. The nerves settle.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, actually,” Phil admits.

He frowns through a smile. Dan understands the expression well. Telling the truth feels odd. There’s a freedom there that feels good but doesn’t always match up with what you’ve said. Dan tilts his head in a sympathetic nod.

“I am _okay_ , I guess,” Phil says. “My life is…”

Phil stops at the impulse to say ‘good’. Dan feels like he wants to reach out and pull Phil in and say ‘I understand. I completely understand. You’re safe telling me.’ He doesn’t.

“You’re life’s feeling pretty shit at the minute, doesn’t it?” Dan says instead.

Phil exhales.

“Yeah,” he says with a puzzled expression as if the realisation is just hitting him now. “Not… Not completely. But I’d say that everything outside this room feels pretty shit, yeah.”

Dan lets the statement sit between them for a moment before he whispers, 

“Yeah. Me too.”

There’s nothing amazing about this room. It’s a utility closet at a party to celebrate the biggest day in two people’s lives, and from the sound steadily increasing from downstairs it sounds like a riot. Still, Dan thinks this is the place he’s felt most comfortable in for a long time. Dan fills up their glasses once again. Maybe it isn’t about the location.

“I don’t have anything to complain about, really,” Phil says. “It’s my…. Relative’s wedding day. They got a great party and everything’s been going perfectly.”

Dan smiles at the stutter and pause around Phil’s attempt at not specifying his relationship to one of the newly weds. He really struggles with holding back details. If the bartender girl hadn’t slipped up, Dan’s sure he’d known Phil’s name before the night was over regardless.

“Relative, huh?” Dan smirks. “Let’s see.”

Phil cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re pale, but given your accent I’d be surprised to find out you weren’t a native speaker.”

Phil stays silent.

“That means you’re on the groom’s side of the family. Am I wrong?”

Phil’s laughter completely betrays the poker face he’s been attempting.

“Yeah?” Dan asks, elated. “I’m correct?”

“What if I impressed you with some Swedish right now?” Phil says, smiling from ear to ear. “Wouldn’t be so cocky then, would you?”

He goes in on the northern dialect at that. Dan snorts.

“So you know them closely enough to have picked up some Swedish, then?” Dan says.

Phil actually looks mildly impressed. He holds it in poorly. Heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy.

“Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?” Phil says, exasperated.

“I know a Swede when I see one, mate.” Dan shrugs. “I should know, I’ve been living with one for three years. Besides, you told me you were a relative. It’s hardly even a guessing game at this point.”

“No, wait a second now,” Phil says. “That means you’re from Corn’s side!”

“Big whoop,” Dan grins. “You couldn’t deduce this even if you tried, mate.”

Phil takes a swig of wine, defeated.

“I’ll deduct your mum,” he mutters.

Dan has to to hold his hand over his mouth not to spit everywhere. Once he’s swallowed it he covers his eyes as he laughs.

“Your mum jokes?” he comments, amazed. “Really? Aren’t you like thirty?”

“Okay, you’re actually scaring me now,” Phil says. “Are you a spy or something?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Dan responds, dead-pan. “Here to seduce the Lester family men for information.”

“See, that’s exactly how a spy would react,” Phil reasons.

“So you’re a Lester?” Dan asks.

Phil groans. Dan loves that look on Phil’s face when he feels defeated. He’s never properly angry about it. He just gets all squirmy and cute as if he’s even attempted to keep some type of anonymity. It reminds Dan of his own little brother, actually. Phil must be a younger sibling.

“So you’re a cousin then?” Dan asks.

The victorious smile Phil fails to hold back is enough tell that Dan is wrong.

“No,” Dan squints. “Little brother. You’re Martyn’s younger brother.”

“How did you know I’m younger?” Phil practically yells.

Dan cackles.

Phil scoots closer with a comfortable smile. Dan smiles back. Their arms touch.

“You’re terrible at this,” Dan grins.

“Your mum,” Phil retorts.

He swallows Dan’s laugh with a heated kiss. Dan leans right into it, pushing against Phil’s lips, reminded of just how much he wants to keep kissing them. If only they could talk and kiss at the same time. There’s something about Phil’s mind that just begs Dan to find out more. And yet his lips are just as amazing.

Phil pulls back, hand sliding over Dan’s cheek and dropping down into Dan’s lap.

Dan feels himself harden against the back of Phil’s hand. Phil rubs over the outline of him. These trousers may not be meant for quick access, but Dan doesn’t care. He pushes up against Phil’s hand and kisses him deeply, scrambling hands taking a hold of Phil’s lightly padded shoulders. It goes so easy. Dan has been drinking a lot, without taking note of the effects, but the way Phil feels and how unrestrained Dan feels when he pushes against the touch and demands closeness must be a result of intoxication.

Phil has his fingers on the button of Dan’s trousers when the sudden silence of the shutdown karaoke machine fills the room. Phil’s hand stops. He pulls away from Dan’s mouth and takes a moment. Dan waits. He listens for the sounds coming from downstairs. He’s been ignoring them for so long it’s hard to redirect attention to it. All he can hear is a low murmur.

“Fuck,” Phil says, frozen in place. “It’s time for cake.”

Dan could make a joke, wiggle his ass and say ‘ _it sure is_ ’, but the fear in Phil’s eyes are enough for him to reconsider. Yet somehow, that intensity softens when Phil looks into Dan’s eyes. As if Phil can hear the strange connection Dan’s making.

“Not that kind,” Phil chuckles. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” Dan echoes with a smile.

Phil retreats, getting to his stumbling feet. Dan watches as Phil rubs his palms over his face and shakes, as if he can physically shake off the alcohol. As Dan’s gaze pans down Phil’s slender shape, he realises he might have to cool down something else, too.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Phil begs. “I have to be…” he waves his hand in a gesture for lack of a word, “for cutting the cake and dessert.”

“Normal,” Dan fills in. “Suitable. Presentable.”

Dan gets up, feeling his head spin so hard it elicits a swooping sensation in his stomach. He steadies himself against the wall. Half expecting Phil to make fun of him, he looks at him.

But Phil simply gazes at Dan, thoughts stuck on something, in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “That’s exactly it.”

Phil might not have an Esther, Dan realises. He might not have a person in his life to share this with. He seems so utterly confused any time Dan understands him.

Dan takes a step closer and smooths a hand over Phil’s arm. He really doesn’t want to leave.

“Let’s come back here after,” Phil whispers. “Put this as a ‘to be continued’. As quickly as physically possible.”

Dan nods. His heart flutters.

* * *

Dan waits in the bar area when Phil shoots past him and goes to talk to someone. He hears a happy “there you are”, but he can’t hear Phil’s response. He wonders if he’s quick on his feet, because the longer Dan waits the more he finds himself coming up with an explanation for his absence. He doesn’t want to leave this one corner that he’s deemed suitable for people watching. He’s drunk, socialising comes easier, but the only person he wants to _socialise_ with is Phil.

Dan doesn’t have a choice, because soon enough Esther’s clinging to his arm. She’s drunker than he is, but she’s smiling openly. The only sign of her intoxication is her breath and the way she pinches Dan’s cheeks.

“Ow,” Dan moans, rubbing a hand over one of his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Esther grins. “Where’ve you been, Daniel? I was worried.”

“Worried. Sure. You look like you’re having fun.”

Esther takes a look around, as if to check that no one’s listening. Dan wants to roll his eyes. She’s not being particularly annoying by any means, he just doesn’t want this. This is exactly the situation he was avoiding when he decided to go to the bar earlier this evening. Apparently being granted that distraction is only making him greedy. He might as well have missed Phil completely, and been stuck down here all night.

“I am,” Esther says defensively. “Don’t change the subject. Are you alright?”

Dan chuckles.

“Did you go off drinking alone?” she asks, some worry painting her features. “I’m sorry if I---”

“No,” Dan sighs.

He wasn’t going to tell her anything. He was going to switch the topic around, but even under the influence Esther can see right through those attempts. 

“No?” Esther asks. Her surprise turns into some filthy understanding, and she grins. “ _Oh…_ ”

Dan shakes his head. It’s amazing how incredibly perceptive she can be when she wants to be. Earlier tonight she didn’t seem to realise Dan was even present.

“Who is he?” she asks.

“Keep your voice down,” Dan shushes her hurriedly, and grabs a hold of her arm.

She jumps at that, like he just slapped a hand over her mouth. Dan gives an apologetic expression and she calms.

“But really, who?” she whispers back.

“I’m not telling,” Dan whispers back.

“Why not?” Esther whines.

“Because this isn’t sixth form.”

Esther rolls her eyes, defeated. Dan would have told her if things were different. It’s not that serious. But there was one deduction Dan made in the utility room that he didn’t tell Phil. Dan can’t be sure if it’s true, but he won’t risk it if it is. Phil is closeted. It was there, somewhere, in his excitement and apprehension and the way he listened in on everything happening downstairs. Running away to fool around with someone is scandalous enough, regardless of gender, but Dan had a feeling that it was more than that. He had a feeling that everything that happened in that room has to remain a secret.

Esther keeps talking and Dan hums along to her talk about the people she’s been hanging out with and what they’ve been doing. He’ll ask her to repeat it later, he does want to know, but right now as he’s scanning the crowd of people in the main hall he can’t listen and think at the same time.

It doesn’t take long. The bride, Cornelia, grabs everyone’s attention in her amazing white dress and Phil is standing right by her side, with Martyn and… someone else.

Dan takes in Phil’s slender body and perfectly shaped quiff. There are no ruffles or stray hairs to give away that Dan had his hands on them not long ago. Not a single clue to reveal exactly where Phil’s hands were placed. He looks relaxed. He’s smiling genuinely. And the someone else is a gorgeous woman wearing a knee length purple dress and impressive heels and she’s sliding her arm around Phil’s waist. Phil looks down at her with such certainty that it twists Dan’s insides. _Lilac. It suits you. One of my favourite colours._

Maybe just part of Phil is closeted. Maybe there’s a different reason why what they did is secret.

Dan can’t process much when the wedding cake is rolled out and Cornelia takes the first slice. He can barely hear the roar of applause when she smushes a piece into Martyn’s mouth just to kiss the excess cream off his lips. His stare is locked at that arm the strange woman still has around Phil’s waist, and the comfortable laughs between them as they watch the cake cutting unfold.

It’s just how things go, is the dejected thought taking a steadfast hold in Dan’s mind as he sits down with his plate of cake. It’s just how anything that seems to be going well or simply feels good end up for Dan. With a revelation of how little it actually means and how easily swayed Dan is by two assured hands and an intense stare. Not only is it something to linger and hurt in the pit of Dan’s stomach, but there’s an ocean of guilt added into the mix. Dan couldn’t see the signs, because there weren’t any. Phil hadn’t been checking on his phone or seemed even remotely ashamed of himself while they were together. He only seemed relieved, if a little unstable in certain moments. Heart on his sleeve, Dan’s mind drones on. He shoves a mouthful of cake into his mouth and filters out the conversation going at the table. He can’t even taste it. Every time he chews it just seems to grow bigger in his mouth. Dan can only seem to swallow once he’s had a sip of water.

Dan saw what he wanted to see in Phil. He wanted to be comforted. Every miniscule moment that felt like more than anything he’d experienced was the product of Dan’s longing for just that. How he even considered telling Phil who he was, and put an end to the anonymity. If not to ask him on a date, then to at least keep in touch as friend. Because in Dan’s mind Phil was a lonely person who really needed that understanding. The world isn’t black and white. A person that cheats on their partner can have good traits. It could all be due to circumstance. But it still doesn’t make sense, to Dan. It just doesn’t.

He stares at the table across the room, close to the bride and groom, where Phil is seated. With the man who held a speech earlier, an older woman, and the one in the purple dress. They’re his parents. But Phil isn’t smiling. He’s staring down at his plate and not engaging in conversation just like Dan. Maybe it’s starting to eat at him now.

Dan’s train of thoughts gets interrupted when Phil stands up and clinks his spoon against a wine glass. The low murmur of the room fades as every face turns towards him. Dan feels like he can’t breathe.

“Hello,” Phil says awkwardly, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I’m Phil.”

“We know!” someone shouts from the crowd of people.

A few laughs. Phil looks a bit taken aback by the interjection but he recovers quickly.

“Right, yeah,” he nods through a chuckle. “As most of you know, I’m Martyn’s younger brother and best friend.”

It hurts. It hurts to see how charming and composed he is in front of everyone. How lovingly his parents look at him, the pride in their smiles. And Martyn, looking slightly shocked by this turn of events but so exceptionally fond of his brother. Cornelia’s smile is all excitement.

It hurts that Dan wants to forgive everything to be a part of that.

“I thought it would only be appropriate that I say a few words,” Phil continues. “I mean it _is_ his wedding day.”

A few chuckles sprinkle throughout the crowd. Every single one seems to ease some confidence into Phil’s posture.

“I’m not typically the centre of attention,” Phil says. “I spend my days working _behind_ a camera, not in front of it. That’s where I feel comfortable, and when I was considering making this speech I realised that despite the fact that I’m the one talking, today isn’t about me. Today belongs entirely to my brother Martyn and his wonderful … _wife_ , Cornelia.”

The emphasis on the word “wife” gets caught in Phil’s throat before it’s uttered with some emotion. The room is completely silent. Some people are already dabbing napkins under their eyes and noses. The newness of the word wife is what’s got them. Dan wonders if Cornelia being Martyn’s wife now is really the reason for why that word was difficult for Phil to say.

“Regardless of titles, Cornelia has been a part of our family for a long time,” Phil goes on. “She has brightened our lives in her own special way.”

A murmur of laughter. Dan doesn’t know the context of the joke. He just can’t seem to stop staring at the way Phil’s shoulder almost rhythmically hunch and drop for every sentence that comes out of him. Dan can tell this speech has been rehearsed, but Phil speaks it as if it’s just now coming to him. Maybe he’s good at that. Maybe he has experience. Maybe the reason Dan is noticing it’s been rehearsed is because he wonders if he’s been on the receiving end to Phil’s lies himself.

“I would tell you all the interesting and funny details that only a brother could know,” Phil says. “I could embarrass him all I want, but to be honest I don’t feel like doing that tonight.”

The hush of the room is nearing uncomfortable territory. Dan remembers the difficulty Phil had with honesty when they were talking earlier. How he had to force himself not to tell the lies that would roll out of him regarding his well being. And the surprise in his eyes when Dan told him he gets it. Dan should just leave. It’s too much. His throat feels tight and his face feels hot.

“I rather feel like saying,” Phil says, clearing his voice.

There’s a pause. That hasn’t been rehearsed. Phil looks properly emotional even from this distance. 

“That I love you,” Phil finishes, looking right at Cornelia and Martyn. “I love you both so much. You are so meant to be together, and if I ever had any doubts that that was possible you’ve proved that it really, truly is. It is possible and just seeing the way you look at each other and care for each other is an amazing thing to witness.”

Sniffs and cleared throats. Martyn looks absolutely taken with Phil’s words. Cornelia’s excited smile is now emotional. She’s hunched over and blinking her wet eyes.

But when Phil ends that phrase his eyes land on Dan. There’s emotion there, and Dan can’t think it only has to do with the people his speech is devoted to. He’s looking straight at Dan and there’s something edging close to apologetic, like asking for understanding or forgiveness. Dan clenches his jaw and steels himself to not waver under Phil’s intense stare.

Phil breaks the eye contact, looks at his brother and sister in law.

“So, I’d like to propose a toast,” Phil says raising his glass. The crowd follows. Dan’s hands are stuck to his sides. “To Martyn and Cornelia.”

The phrase is repeated back and ends with thunderous applause. Phil bows awkwardly and sits down. Cornelia and Martyn make their way over quickly once the speech is over to hug him. Phil stands back up and holds both of them close, they’re all smiling. Cornelia kisses Phil on the cheek.

How can it be possible to be this loved and appreciated. This sincere and sweet and giving. So undeniably wholesome and amazing. When there’s such a close kept secret tensing your shoulders, which Phil indulged in only moments ago?

Dan feels someone nudge his leg under the table and realises he’s been completely focused on Phil. He hasn’t even noticed that people have been going back to their conversations and slices of cake and coffees. 

Esther gives a questioning raise of one eyebrow. Dan just nods.

* * *

After dessert is finished and a few more speeches have been held, Cornelia makes her way to the stage. She sits on a stool with a guitar in her lap. It’s plugged in and she leans into the microphone to say that the song she’s about to sing she’s written and dedicated to her husband, Martyn.

It’s beautiful. She sings with a sincerity that’s enough to give Dan goosebumps, but then her voice is effortlessly smooth and her rhythmic guitar plucking goes amazingly with it. Dan doesn’t even think before he breaks his stare at her and looks at Phil.

And Phil is already staring back with some unprompted self-assuredness. Dan’s eyes go swiftly to the girl at his side and then back with a questioning shrug to his shoulder. He’s trying so hard to seem casual about it. To not let the pressure it’s put him under for the past hour show.

Phil just shakes his head slowly. Dan has no idea what that means. Phil raises one eyebrow, as if asking ‘ _understood?_ ’. Dan wants to think that Phil’s saying that the two of them aren’t together. That no line has been crossed. That everything’s fine and that Phil is exactly who he’s said he is. But he might as well be saying ‘that’s no problem’ or ‘she doesn’t know’.

Dan shrugs again, and then forces his eyes back to Cornelia. He doesn’t await a response, to see what Phil makes of that shrug, but he wants to. He wants to look back so bad it feels like he’s fighting a magnetic pull towards Phil in order to watch Cornelia’s performance with unseeing eyes and unhearing ears.

* * *

The half hour after the end of the performance feels like a whirlwind. A first dance, more songs, families posing for pictures. Dan stands to the side only watching Phil while Esther talks to her friends. She’s got an arm wrapped around his, grounding him in some way.

Once it’s over and there’s music, Dan can stop holding his breath. The time for grand gestures is over and despite the sinking feeling inside he’s adamant on doing what he came here to do. Drink too much, make a fool of himself, and be a supportive friend to Esther.

Dan doesn’t get through as much as a drink, handed to him by the bartender who’s now looking at him with searching eyes, before Esther pulls him away. Even the bartender can tell something is different, but she keeps her composure and doesn’t have time to pry before someone else makes an order. Esther’s friends are nowhere to be seen to stop her from asking.

“Dan,” she says.

She’s sobered up after cake and coffee. She’s got her focus on him and only him, and that’s rare. Dan sighs.

“Please,” Esther says while Dan sips his drink covertly. “Tell me what’s wrong. What’s happened?”

“He’s got a girl with him,” Dan says.

It would be stupid to pretend nothing has happened. Dan’s angry enough not to care how it affects Phil. It’s one person whom he doesn’t know that gets to hear it. That’s not something Dan should worry his head over.

“I saw that,” Esther says, voice small.

Dan nods, thinking that that’s the end of it. But Esther keeps looking at him with her seeing eyes and touching his arm with a comforting hand.

“But you don’t know what it’s about, do you?” she asks. “You should talk to him.”

Dan snorts a bitter laugh.

“Right, yeah,” he says in monotone. “That’s funny, Esther. Really.”

“Come on,” Esther says. “If it is what you think it is, that’s it. But what if it isn’t?”

“What?” Dan sighs. “Like she’s some beard? It’s 2019, Esther. There are bisexuals.”

Esther rolls her eyes.

“Of course I know that,” she bites back. “I happen to be one of them.”

Dan knows that. God, he knows that. But he has no one to direct his anger at and right now Esther feels like the perfect person to antagonise.

“Sorry,” Dan says. “I’m just feeling fucked up right now.”

“Yeah,” Esther says.

They stand in place quietly. Esther must be practising some impressive amount of self control not to keep insisting Dan does what she says. Dan’s grateful for it. He doesn’t want to think of what’s happened. He only wants to drink and forget. As sad as it sounds, it’s the only thing he thinks will get him to focus on something else.

But then his eyes find Phil’s where he’s stood by the bar. Instead of attempting telepathy, this time Phil walks a straight line towards Dan. Esther lets go of Dan and skips away, still within ears reach of course, while Dan’s heart pounds.

Dan has no time to take in Phil’s stance or mood before Phil starts talking.

“Excuse me. But I think there’s a bottle that needs tending to on the second floor.”

Dan frowns.

“Would you care to join me?” Phil asks, the twitch of his mouth betraying his otherwise composed neutral expression.

Dan sighs. With a tight nod in response, he follows Phil’s footsteps.

* * *

Dan notices the difference when they seamlessly sneak out of the crowd and make it up the stairs. They’re not sneaking glances and giggling. The only times their eyes accidentally meet Dan turns his straight forward. They’re walking urgently towards the door they left not that long ago. As if saying a single word outside of it is forbidden. As if breaking that unspoken rule would has consequences.

But making it inside showers Dan with anxiety as soon as the door slams shut and they’re face to face. He has no time to ask himself what the fuck they’re doing here before Phil’s mouth is on his. Before his sides are grabbed and he’s pushed to the wall. He doesn’t have room to question his response before his hands are at the back of Phil’s head, urging him closer, and he pushes his hips forward when Phil now successfully undoes the buttons on the front of Dan’s trousers and pushes his hand inside Dan’s boxers.

His movements stutter when Phil’s hand wraps around him. With a tight squeeze Phil moves up and down in quick succession as his breath comes out hot against Dan’s lips. Dan holds his hands steady at the back of Phil’s head, as if breaking that hold would take him back to the place of uncertainty. He isn’t certain now. He has no idea what the fuck they’re doing. So instead Dan focuses on how it feels physically. There’s nothing to doubt there. There are teeth nipping at his jaw and a hand to thrust into, and that’s the simplicity Dan was originally seeking tonight.

But his hold on to physicality trembles when Phil decides to speak.

“Fuck,” Phil groans. “You’re so hard for me.”

His voice is so different from before. The playfulness when they were in here last, or the composure it held during his speech. This is raw, and appreciative, and it’s going to tug where it hurts if Dan lets himself think.

“Can I suck you off?” Phil asks against Dan’s neck.

Dan isn’t going to think. It’s physical.

“Yes.”

Dan releases some of the hold he’s had on Phil once he gets to his knees. They linger softer on the shaved sides, and he brushes them softly over the hair there. Phil looks up at Dan and pulls him out of his boxers. Dan’s body tenses up hard the moment he watches Phil’s lips part to make room for him, then settle around his tip.

There’s no room for shame and guilt in Phil’s clouding eyes as he takes Dan deeper. He keeps his eyes trained on Dan, as if the communicate something that Dan is deliberately blind to. Phil sucks tight, and once his mouth moves back up his eyes close and he pulls off. He holds Dan to the corner of his mouth as he shudders out a downright horny breath.

“God,” Phil coughs.

Dan has to look away. He’s feeling that tension ease in Phil’s uncensored lust. He doesn’t want it to. Dan wants to remain stoic and still. He wants to treat this like something casual. He can’t do that if Phil keeps staring up at him with that sincerity. He can’t do it if he listens to the way Phil’s breath catches when he’s overwhelmed by how turned on he is.

Phil only sucks two delicious strokes before he stops again.

“Hey,” he murmurs, mouth sliding down the side of Dan’s cock. “Look at me.”

Dan huffs a frustrated breath through his nose.

Phil mouths at the head, tongue sliding over the inside of his foreskin. Dan shakes, can’t help but steady his hands in Phil’s hair and urge him down. But Phil pulls back against the force and chuckles.

“If you want to do that you’ll have to look at me, please,” he says sweetly.

Dan doesn’t want to, but he complies. He looks down at Phil’s reddened cheeks and what a sinfully deep colour his lips have turned, and how his expression has changed from clouded to intense. It makes Dan’s cock twitch.

“Fuck,” Dan grits between his teeth.

Phil does as promised and sinks down. His mouth feels hot and tight and perfect around Dan in such a way that he mindlessly pulls at Phil’s hair as gently as he possibly can while feeling this close to coming this soon. Phil makes a noise at that, one that’s surprisingly low and willing. He bobs his mouth up and down Dan in quick succession while still keeping his eyes locked on Dan’s, as if that’s precisely what he needs right now. As if that’s the part that makes him rub himself over his trousers while swirling his tongue around the head of Dan’s cock.

Dan lets go of Phil’s hair and slaps his hand against the wall above his head. He’s fucking entranced. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Phil’s working his mouth over him like he was born to do just that, in this moment, and Dan can’t keep fighting whatever turmoil is trying to surface inside him anymore.

There is no turmoil. There appears to be only affection. There’s a searing need to have this, to let it be uncomplicated while still as surprisingly intimate as every one of their exchanges have been tonight. Intimate in that way where it feels like they’ve already met before. Uncomplicated like it is for people that don’t have to worry about these types of twists and turns that are all too familiar to people like them.

Phil starts to move his hand over Dan quickly, so dead set on the end, and Dan can’t stop it anymore if he tried.

He cries out loudly as he spills in Phil’s hand, uncertain tension and plasticine walls all but torn down as pleasure rocks his insides in waves.

Before Dan comes back to himself Phil pulls him down to his knees. They huff exerted breaths on each other’s mouths between Phil’s hard kisses. Dan only mildly reciprocates, as his head swims.

“Shh,” Phil shushes sweetly, carding his fingers through Dan’s hair, foreheads touching. “There we go. It’s okay.”

“What?” Dan’s voice comes out weak, as if he’s been yelling.

“You’re a loud one,” Phil murmurs.

Dan doesn’t know why he’s blushing. He doesn’t know why he’s smiling bashfully.

Dan pushes Phil back gently and works Phil’s trousers open. Phil steadies himself on his elbows as Dan sinks his mouth over his cock and moans when he feels how thick and hard it is.

“I won’t last long,” Phil forewarns in a tight voice.

All Dan wants is for Phil to fill his mouth up.

He goes slowly, though, even if every stroke makes Phil twitch inside his mouth. It’s beautiful how responsive he is to Dan’s mouth, as if Dan’s working magic when really he is just letting himself do exactly what he wants and feel exactly what he’s feeling.

“Look at me,” Phil breathes.

Dan squints up at Phil, whose eyes squeeze shut after only a second of shared eye contact. His hips thrust up involuntarily, but still held back enough not to throw Dan’s rhythm. Dan bobs up and down, squinting at Phil who only opens his eyes with effort at certain times. And after a few too many seconds of that he loses it, pumping come onto Dan’s tongue as his body tenses hard.

Dan swallows the load swiftly and sucks at Phil’s tip one last time before it becomes too sensitive to touch. He lies his back down next to Phil on the floor and they breathe, untouching, as the urgency halts.

Phil’s hand finds Dan’s hair. They lie unmoving, only connected by the soft scratching of Phil’s fingernails against Dan’s scalp. Dan sighs.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asks quietly.

It tugs where it hurts. Dan has no walls to hide behind now.

“Are you with her?” Dan asks, matching Phil’s lack of volume.

A beat, and Dan starts to unravel again.

“No,” Phil says.

Dan tears his eyes from the far off, white ceiling to sneak a glance at Phil. He watches how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows nervously. Dan looks back up at the ceiling.

“Who knows you aren’t?”

“She knows. Martyn and Cornelia know. My friends know.”

“So, your parents and extended family think she’s your girlfriend.”

“Yeah.” Phil sighs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Dan puts himself back in his boxers and buttons his trousers. He rolls to his side to look at Phil, whose pained expression makes Dan want to rewind. Even if that was more difficult than this, and he much favours the relief of knowing Phil’s hasn’t been lying to him. He does prefer Phil to not look like he’s been stabbed in the chest, maybe even more than he cares about what he himself knows about him.

“I’m sorry.”

Phil’s voice comes out like squeak before it’s replaced by fast breaths. His eyes squeeze shut, mouth shut tight. Dan smooths his hand over the side of Phil’s face. He moves a thumb over that worried brow, as if he could physically smooth it out.

“Don’t,” Dan whispers.

Phil shakes his head.

“I put you in an unfair position,” he struggles to say.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dan soothes.

He moves his fingers along the short hair on the side of Phil’s head.

“If there’s anyone here tonight that understands, it’s me,” Dan says. “You don’t have to apologise.”

Phil goes quiet. Dan swallows dryly. He’s at a loss. He wants to say a lot more than what’s already been said. He wants to tell Phil that even if they haven’t known each other for long, he can feel that Phil’s a good person. Not because of the amazing speech he gave or the validation he gives by giving Dan attention. There’s something else there. It’s more than getting off.

At the same time, Phil is in a situation that Dan can’t even imagine. With all the errors he’s made over the years and the hard words he’s had to hear because of his sexuality, staying closeted came to a point pained him so much he couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to be himself. It’s not about talking about sex and romance with every person in his life -- it’s about having the option. It’s about people knowing where he’s coming from.

But Phil has a large group of people in his life that doesn’t know. He’s adamant about keeping it shut down enough to go to that length in order to keep it that way.

A sniff fills the silence.

It’s wet, followed by a shuddering breath. Dan turns to look. Phil’s eyes meet his, for a split second, before Phil pushes the heels of his palms against his eyes and sits up. Dan sits up, not thinking as he puts a hand on Phil’s shoulder. Dan expects to be snubbed. He expects Phil to stand up and tell him that he has to go.

Instead, when Dan pulls Phil towards himself he goes easily into Dan’s arms. Dan’s heart beats hard as Phil weeps against his shoulder.

Dan swallows hard. He rubs Phil’s back slowly. He can’t really say anything. He feels like a mountain of pain is put on top of him but it doesn’t crush him. That pain is already so familiar within Dan that he simply lets it in, holds it close, and tries to ease it the way he’s learned to.

Phil pulls away after a few moments. He’s looking down. Dan dries the tears on his cheeks with an open palm.

“Are you okay?” Dan whispers.

Phil shakes his head. He steels himself to look at Dan’s face.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I am actually… happy in a way.”

Dan doesn’t say anything. He hadn’t expected that, either.

“Just to be talking about it,” Phil says. “With someone that’s … like me.”

Dan takes a breath.

“What’s it been like?” Dan whispers. “Don’t you know anyone that’s… you know.”

“I do,” Phil says. “I know a few people. The girl I’m uh, with, is asexual so it’s working out for her in the same way that it does for me. But it isn’t the same thing. People can be so--”

Phil sighs frustratedly.

“My brother’s great,” Phil starts out. “He’s there for me, always. But with this stuff he can be so… fucking stupid.”

There’s some confliction in Phil’s expression as he says it. As if he shouldn’t be. Dan puts a grounding hand atop Phil’s thigh. He waits quietly.

“Even today,” Phil sighs, exasperated. “Even today he’s been telling me that I should stop putting up this ‘act’ and just tell them.”

Dan nods, not approvingly but just to indicate he’s still listening.

“I know he means well,” Phil says. “I know he doesn’t get it. But an event like this is hard enough without being reminded of all of that.”

Dan takes a moment.

“Should I not have-”

“No,” Phil hurries, his hand covering Dan’s on his thigh, locking their eyes with more intensity than they have for the past ten minutes. “No, meeting you has…”

He doesn’t find the words. He just stops talking. But the icy blue eyes tell Dan exactly what he’s thinking. And again, it’s not crushing. It’s just eerily similar to exactly what Dan is thinking. Dan doesn’t know how to approach those thoughts, though. They’re still new. But they feel good.

“Yeah,” Dan says, for lack of anything else.

Phil manages an intrigued smile.

“Yeah?” he asks.

He smooths his hand on top of Dan’s, rubs it slowly. As if reminding Dan that it’s there. That they have something here. And that there are other things connecting them than shared pain.

Dan locks Phil’s fingers with his.

Phil leans forward and they kiss. It feels different. Dan wants more of different. More of openness, more of connection, more of shared world view. Things he hadn’t realised he was missing. Not to this extent. Somehow, this feels like he has that.

Dan lets his fingers roam Phil’s hair again. They always ends up there, it seems. But Phil’s response is just as good as how it feels. He opens his mouth, pushes onto Dan’s mouth. The energy shifts into some desperation, but Dan remains like he is. He accepts those pushes and those hands that grab onto the collar of his shirt. He keeps still, pushing back just enough not to tip over.

They stop to catch their breaths.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Phil says, eyes intent on Dan’s. “You-- you know so much about me and I don’t even know your name.”

Dan thinks for a second.

“The power of deduction,” Dan decides to joke.

Phil smiles. It’s a great smile.

“I would like to figure you out,” Phil says. “But I’ve got nothing.”

Dan grins. It does sting inside him, a little bit. To know he can be so guarded even with someone who’s just spilled their guts to him. But despite the seemingly one sided conversation it’s resonated so much in Dan that he’s surprised at how little he’s actually said.

“Nothing more than just,” Phil sighs. “You. And how… how kind and generous you’ve been this whole night.”

Those are two words Dan hasn’t heard in reference to himself in a long time.

“I’m way too easy to figure out,” Phil says. “Kind of amazing how I’ve been able to keep all of this from them, huh?”

“That must be killing you,” Dan says before he thinks.

Phil smiles sadly.

“Wine?” he asks, leaning sideways to grab the neck of the large bottle of wine they left here earlier.

“Please,” Dan says.

He pours the glasses and they end up like before, side by side against the wall, cheersing and sipping the measuring cups. It’s a funny contrast. Well dressed, put together men drinking fancy wine out of measuring cups in a utility room away from the party they should be participating in. Dan wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

They drink quietly, but sometimes their eyes meet and they giggle. Dan isn’t sure why. The night has shifted so much and so fast, perhaps the comedy is found just within that. The wine tastes amazing, Phil’s laugh is beautiful, and Dan feels fulfilled.

“Does that make you John, then?” Dan asks after a bit of time has passed.

Dan’s about to explain himself when Phil takes a moment, but then Phil just gets it.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d definitely be the John to your Sherlock.”

“You have the Sherlock cheekbones, though.”

“Yes, but none of the brains.”

Dan doesn’t know much about Phil’s brains, but he feels adamant about defending them.

“John doesn’t have brains?” Dan challenges.

Phil shrugs.

“His character suits me, I guess,” he says. “Repressed. Lonely. A side character.”

If Phil hadn’t said it with such a firm, strong held belief Dan would have called it a pity party. It pains him that he can’t. He can’t joke it away, because Phil really doesn’t think more of himself than that.

“Uhm, excuse me?” Dan scoffs. “Have you seen the show? Sherlock would be nothing without John. He’s a mess whenever he’s not around. Besides, John’s needed for the cases, too. Just because he can’t tell you’re a war veteran after two seconds that doesn’t mean he’s daft.”

“Interesting,” Phil muses with a hard earned smile. “He’s nothing without him?”

Dan’s face burns as their eyes lock.

“Yeah,” Dan whispers.

Phil grins. He’s coming back to that person Dan first met, the person that he really is without the guilt and shame scrambling his brain. Sweet, and open, with a calmness that strikes Dan now that knows the details.

“That’s a good ass show, isn’t it?” Phil says.

“Yeah,” Dan replies. “One of my favourites.”

Phil chuckles. They share a knowing look.

* * *

After a while they begrudgingly make their way downstairs. The karaoke machine has been plugged back in, but the party has started to clear out and most people are drinking and talking. Cornelia and Martyn are sat together speaking to respective sets of parents. Esther and her friends are stood by the bar. It looks like they’re getting on well with the bartender.

She’s the first one to notice them, but she doesn’t as much as nod in their direction. Dan’s grateful for it. He wouldn’t want any attention drawn to himself, even if he’s walking forward alone this time while Phil hides, waiting to make an equally subtle appearance.

“There he is!” says one of Esther’s friends, the one with the bleached hair.

She slurs the words and grabs Dan’s shoulder once he’s close enough to steady herself. He grins, giving Esther a questioning glance. He doesn’t know this woman at all, but he forgives her forwardness with the amount of drinks she’s probably had.

“The man of the hour,” Esther grins, her eyes giving no answer.

“Had to lie down for a bit,” Dan shrugs. “I get migraines.”

“Hmm,” the bartender sounds, giving him a curious look. “Hate it when migraines… _strike_.”

Dan sucks his lips between his teeth not to smile. She winks back at him.

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Dan says. “It’s better now, though.”

“Yeah? You found a fix?” the bartender asks.

“I think it may have found me,” Dan says.

The conversation begs for question, but a drunk group of people may not understand subtext very well. At least no one says anything. They keep chatting about something else until one of the boyfriends, the shy one that struggles with English, starts to flick through songs on the karaoke machine.

He starts singing _Dancing Queen_ by ABBA. It earns a loud cheer from the Swedes. Dan grins. Some stereotypes really are true.

Esther stays beside Dan as they make their way to the main hall to watch the performance. She links her arm with his comfortably.

“So?” she whispers in his ear. “Did you guys work it out?”

“Yeah,” Dan whispers back. “We’re good.”

She smiles at him. He smiles back.

They enjoy a few ABBA songs. Only a couple people are decent singers, but it doesn’t matter. Dan only half listens anyway, as he keeps glancing back at the Lesters’ table to watch Phil talk to his family. He looks more relaxed now. His quiff may be strong, but it hasn’t survived the night. It flops a little, stray hairs poke out. Dan thinks he prefers it when it’s a bit wayward.

“Won’t you sing something, Dan?” Esther asks, a small smile on his face.

His face immediately flushes red. He shakes his head.

“Come on,” she says. “You know, he’s been looking at you every time you turn back around?”

Dan stiffens.

“What?” he asks.

He knows what she means. He just has no idea how it relates to karaoke.

“If you were to sing something you’d both have an excuse to look at each other,” she grins. “For three whole minutes.”

Dan grins back. It’s stupid, it really is. But somehow, it motivates him enough to go up to the karaoke machine the next time it’s unused to flick through the songs.

There are a lot of classics. Dan doesn’t have the best singing voice, and while he can laugh at himself it’s difficult to when everything about tonight feels like it means so much. Even this one, small choice seems like it should matter. 

Dan sighs. He decides on the song he’s most familiar with. He presses it, and the beat starts immediately.

Suddenly he’s reminded that he actually has to sing in front of all these people that don’t know him, and he feels a flood of sweat pour from his back. He swallows, staring down at the lyrics that he knows by heart just to not have to see any judging eyes.

He clears his throat before he hesitantly half speaks, half sings the first line of _Starlight_ by Muse.

It’s not until he’s finished the first verse and has eased into it through the people singing along that Dan dares to look up for more than two seconds at a time. When he does, he looks straight at Phil who’s looking straight at him and mouthing along to every single words like he knows it by heart.

Dan chuckles through his singing, he can’t hold it back. And Phil blushes, smiling back just as hard. There really is something there. No matter who’s by his side, fronting as his girlfriend, there’s something between them that Dan has never experienced before.

“Hold you in my arms,” Dan sings. “I just wanted to hold you in my arms.”

His voice breaks at the falsetto but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t paid attention to Muse lyrics in a long time. They’re simply there, like a placeholder, etched into his brain after reading through the album booklets obsessively for most of his teen years. Now, as he sings them, he feels like he’s hearing the words for the first time. His smile fades as he looks at Phil’s steady smile, the tilt of his head as he leans forward, elbows on the table and cheek resting against his hand as he watches Dan sing those words that seem so oddly appropriate for this moment.

“You electrify my life. Let’s conspire to ignite all the souls that would die just to be alive.”

Dan has to look back down at the screen. No matter how easily the words come to him, even through emotion, he just can’t bear to look at Phil’s face now. It’s too much. And it’s probably too soon. It’s everything all at once, and Dan is suddenly scared. He feels like he’s about to embark on something much greater than he’s ever taken on before and it’s a mixture of excitement and dread that makes his voice feel tight.

He shakes it off, literally. He moves with the music which earns some laughter and applause. Dan’s forgotten how much he likes this type of attention. It spurs him on. The rest of the song comes out with confidence, even though his eyes don’t stay on Phil. Every time he does Phil’s looking back with that same affectionate smile as he mouths the lyrics. If Dan looks for too long he’s not going to be able to keep himself away from him for much longer.

The song ends with a surprisingly enthusiastic amount of applause. Dan bows awkwardly as he steps away and grins, blushing, at Esther. She pats his shoulder in encouragement as the next person takes the stage. Dan’s performance has somehow reignited the guests’ passion for karaoke.

* * *

The attention towards the singing grants Dan the peace of being able to step away unnoticed The bartender is sitting on one of the stools, bored, as she taps her phone. He sits next to her. She looks at him, then around, checking to see if they’re alone.

“Hey,” she says, tired eyes not matching her polite smile.

“Hello,” Dan says. “Jodie, was it?”

“Dodie,” she corrects him. “But don’t worry, people get it wrong all the time.”

“Dodie,” Dan repeats. “Alright. So, how’re you doing?”

“Alright,” Dodie shrugs. “The longer this party goes on the more I get paid. Can’t complain about that. Thanks for making people keep karaokeing for a bit longer.”

“I should be apologising for subjecting you to my terrible singing,” Dan laughs.

He’s thankfully not feeling embarrassed.

“No, it wasn’t that bad,” Dodie smiles. “I think if you worked on your voice it could be really good.”

Dan does blush at that. He doesn’t know why. Being a singer is a pipe dream he’s long suffocated after he realised just how difficult it is to achieve a decent level of voice not to mention trying to work with it. He much prefers his piano.

“Did you get to making some more fun drinks, then?” Dan asks.

“If Gin and Tonics are fun, sure,” Dodie sighs. “And giving you guys that bottle did nothing, to be honest. There’s a criminal amount of wine around here.”

“It’s a wedding,” Dan says.

“I know that,” Dodie laughs. “I just wanted to have some fun with it.”

“Blow me away with your most exciting drink, then,” Dan says boldly. “I’m not scared of trying anything.”

Dodie gets up immediately, nodding her head excitedly.

“Coming right up!” she says.

She looks through the shelves on the other side of the bar, picking up bottles with a worried frown until she finds what she’s looking for. She turns back with a devious grin.

“You’ll regret this,” she warns.

“I think I have enough things to regret after tonight that one more thing doesn’t matter,” Dan shrugs.

She stops in her movements at that, taking a slow look at Dan.

“Oh,” is all she says.

Dan tenses.

“I mean,” he says, a little easier. “I don’t know if I’ll regret it. I hope I won’t.”

“Phil can be a hard nut to crack,” she agrees.

Dan feels strange talking about him like he knows him. But he does. He knows some things about him already that a lot of people probably don’t. Still, he shrugs in response. He watches as Dodie mixes some clear liquid with some sparkly, colourful soda.

“Did he tell you about Beth?” Dodie asks carefully.

“Beth?” Dan asks.

“You know,” Dodie smiles, tilting her head. “His girlfriend.”

She does air quotes around the last word. Dan smiles half heartedly.

“Yeah, he told me.”

He doesn’t feel as confident, talking about it to a friend of Phil’s. It almost seems exploitative. The reaction from Phil whilst they were talking was answer enough. It’s not a funny anecdote, or a detail to add excitement. It’s real life. It’s hard. Dan’s shoulders slump.

“Hey,” Dodie says. “I don’t really know you, but you seem like a good guy.”

Dan doesn’t change his position.

“Phil could really use a good guy,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that makes Dan look up.

They share eye contact for a moment before Dodie looks down, busying herself with the drink. Dan’s about to speak when he feels a pat on his shoulder.

Phil’s sitting down next to him. He’s all charming, relieved smile as he looks at Dan. Dan attempts to meet it, but his smile doesn’t match the excitement in Phil’s. Phil’s probably just happy to be away from his other situation. Maybe he’s even happy to be with Dan. But right now all Dan can see in Phil is worry and obstacles, things he had promised himself to steer clear from. Still, Phil’s open warmth radiates towards him and despite feeling conflicted, it soothes something inside Dan.

“You alright?” Phil asks, voice low.

Dan nods.

“Dodie’s making me a special drink,” he says.

Phil looks over at her. She’s all smiles again, quicker to recover than Dan.

“Watch out,” Phil says. “I’ll never forget the hangover after that one night she made me a ‘special drink’.”

“It’s just because it was so delicious you kept insisting I made you more,” Dodie shoots back.

“That’s true,” Phil grins. “And that’s part of the danger.”

Dan chuckles. His eyes are intense on Phil’s.

“I like a bit of danger.”

Phil blushes. Dodie groans.

“Seriously, guys,” she laughs.

Dan wants to get back to their space, where they can communicate through more than glances and innuendos. He wants to feel that touch on him one more time. He wants to savour it this time.

“Does he know your name yet?” Dodie asks.

“No, Lilac’s still anonymous,” Phil sighs.

Dan looks at him. He hasn’t felt pressured to reveal anything all night, but those words come out frustrated and Dan’s effectively worried and angry at himself. Has Dan made an asshole out of himself?

Phil’s fond smile in return says he hasn’t. Still, Dan’s not so sure.

“Tough break,” Dodie smiles.

“Is that drink gonna be ready today?” Dan says, changing the subject.

“Patience,” Dodie tuts.

Phil grins at Dan. Dan melts.

They don’t have time to say more until Esther’s in Dan’s face. She smooths a hand over her arm, standing on the other side of Dan. Dan looks down at her. She looks beat. He knows what she’s going to say before she says it.

“I think we should be getting home,” she whispers.

“Are you ok?” Dan asks, feeling his heart start to pound.

He doesn’t want something to have happened. He doesn’t want tonight to be on the list of reasons why Esther can’t do things alone. Dan had been confident that leaving her with her old school friends had been a good idea. They seemed to be getting on just fine. But then, Dan didn’t understand what they were saying. For all he knows they could’ve been making insensitive remarks at her all night and he’d be none the wiser.

Dan feels the guilt come creeping in. He’s been selfish. He’s been too worried about feeling alone and sad, effectively wrapping himself inside some complicated love fantasy, and now he’s disappointed when Esther wants to go home. He really is a shit friend.

“I’m alright,” Esther says unconvincingly. “I’m tired. Really. Just that.”

Dan would be saying a lot of things right now if it wasn’t for how Phil’s eyes were practically boring into his skull at the exchange. It’s a clue, Dan realises. Phil could be making his own deduction right now. Dan glances back at him.

“It’s fine if you want to stay,” Esther mumbles. “I can make it home, Dan.”

“No,” Dan says immediately. “I’ll just get this drink and then we’ll leave okay? You can go relax on the sofa if you’re tired. I’ll be quick.”

“But--,” Esther’s about to protest.

“They don’t care,” Dan whispers. “I promise. Everyone’s tired right now. Cornelia even took off her shoes.”

Esther giggles at that. Dan can hear Phil join in.

Esther and Phil look at each other. It seems strange, in a way. But Phil reaches out, his smile just as polite as when he first greeted Dan. Esther shakes his hand.

“I’m Phil,” he says. “We didn’t get a chance to chat.”

“Esther,” Esther says.

She’s not feeling the sociable side effect of alcohol anymore, Dan can tell. This situation is horrifying to her right now.

“She’s had a bit much to drink I think,” Dan interjects before the silence gets awkward.

“Not that much,” Esther says.

“She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Dan jokes, waving a dismissive hand as he flashes a grin at Phil and pats Esther’s shoulders.

She does laugh at that. He almost sighs in relief.

“You underestimate her,” Phil grins.

Esther smiles. Dan leans down to her ear.

“Go to the sofa and I’ll tell you when we leave,” Dan whispers. “Alright? I promise I won’t be long.”

Esther agrees, giving Phil a small wave as she goes.

Dan doesn’t look forward to whatever Phil’s about to say about what happened. He looks over at him sheepishly, and is surprised to see a huge grin flash over Phil’s face. 

“Dan,” is all he says.

The words is small but it speaks volume. Dan didn’t realise Esther even said his name. He smiles back.

“At your service,” he replies.

Phil snorts a laugh.

“That’s too cheesy,” he says.

Dodie practically slams the mug between them. Phil jumps. She looks between them heatedly.

“Drink’s done,” she says.

“Alright,” Dan says, holding his hands up in defense.

“Can’t stand to listen to you two much longer,” she admits. “The kitchen’s empty. Go get your rocks off in there.”

Dan and Phil grin at each other. Dan grabs his drink as they head towards the kitchen inconspicuously.

* * *

Once inside, door closed behind them, Dan barely has time to put the mug down on a counter before Phil’s arms are around his waist and his lips are on his neck.

“The jig is up,” he breathes. “I know who you are.”

“What are you, an American wild west villain?” Dan laughs.

Phil kisses him instead of answering. Dan feels as if his entire body exhales at the touch of his lips. He lets go of everything as his hands finds the sides of Phil’s face and they stand like that, mouths connected, sharing breaths through their noses.

Dan wants to stay. He wants to stay and he can’t. He can’t let his hands roam to Phil’s front and cup him through his trousers while Phil musses his hands in his hair, not a single care in the world about keeping up appearances. In some twist of events, that’s where he ends up. With his ass propped against a counter while Phil goes to town on his neck and scratches that skin with his teeth. Dan lets an unrestrained moan escape his lips at the sensation, pushing harder between Phil’s legs.

“Shh,” Phil shushes him.

Dan laughs breathlessly.

“Right,” he remembers, “loud.”

“I love that about you,” Phil sighs.

His mouth goes slower, more merciful. Sweet kisses are placed instead of scratching teeth and hands massage instead of tug on his head. Dan slows down effectively, rubbing softer against Phil’s prominent erection.

“Would let you get as loud as you want anywhere else,” Phil whispers, lips right by Dan’s ear.

His tongue plays with Dan’s earring. Dan shudders visibly, grabbing Phil’s expensive shirt for purchase.

“Would you like to do this someplace else?” Dan chokes out in response.

He forces it out of himself. The clock is ticking down and he’s well aware of the limited time they have for this. He wants it all. He wants to ask Phil if he’ll join him back home, but they can’t. It’s not what they want, and Phil has to stay and again, keep up appearances.

Phil pulls back. He looks straight into Dan’s eyes as he nods. Dan nods back.

“I can’t,” Phil says. “Not… not now.”

Dan feels it, somewhere deep and hidden. How desperately he wishes that there wasn’t any obstacles to pass through for them to stay like this. Take it with them without an ounce of shame. And yet there’s no way they can. They’re in this situation. Dan would have bailed right out long ago if it had been with anyone else.

But Phil is different. He’s not just perfect imperfections. He’s not just tall, slender, and perfectly in sync with Dan not only physically but socially. There’s something else between them and Dan can’t put his finger on it, but that’s because he hasn’t experienced it before. He wants to sing praises already, and while that has been detrimental to him in the past he doesn’t feel like Phil would react like people have reacted in the past.

“I’ll wait,” Dan says.

Phil’s breath catches. He holds Dan by his sides.

“Will you?”

There’s history behind those words. One that Dan wants to get to know, even if it hurts.

“Absolutely,” Dan responds.

Phil closes the distance between their lips. It’s the same type of urgency, but Dan slows it down. He grounds Phil’s lips against his and pulls away with an audible ‘smack’ that makes them both giggle.

“Give me your phone,” Dan instructs.

Phil clumsily checks his pockets before sliding his mobile out, unlocked into Dan’s hands.

Dan goes into the contacts page and puts down his number. He gives it right back after it’s saved.

Phil chuckles, face painted with some unbridled joy as he stares down at the contacts page.

“Lilac,” he reads aloud. “I know your name, Dan.”

It’s strange to hear it come out of Phil’s mouth, but Dan smiles back nevertheless.

“Well, you chose that for me,” Dan shrugs.

He hops down from the counter and takes a swig of the drink he promised Dodie he would taste. The ice cubes have melted and it’s near room temperature, but it goes down swiftly. Sweet and delicious, barely tasting of alcohol. The taste deceives, though, Dan notices by the way his head swims after he’s put the cup back down.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan says with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, that’s--,” Phil laughs, an affectionate pat to Dan’s cheek. “That was probably stupid.”

Dan grins back.

“Thought I was a genius,” Dan slurs. “Sherlock Holmes style.”

“And I’ll John Watson you into getting you shit together,” Phil counters with a fond smile.

He leads Dan towards the door. For all the wine Dan’s had tonight, this one drink has somehow made all the alcohol swimming through his veins that much more apparent. He shakes his head, as if shaking some sense into himself. They stay by the door, just a little bit.

“I have to take Esther home,” Dan whispers.

Phil’s suddenly close again, holding on to him as if holding on to what they share. Phil sighs.

“And I have to go back to my parents’,” Phil says.

Dan takes Phil’s hand in his. He squeezes it. If he can’t offer support in any other way, this is what he’ll settle with.

“Call me, please,” Dan whispers.

“Of course,” Phil whispers back.

They kiss. The last one for the night. Phil deepens it more than he should, and Dan can’t help but go with it. Any restraints have been untied by the alcohol.

“You taste good,” Phil says as they part.

“Thank Dodie for that,” Dan smiles.

“No,” Phil shakes his head. “Thank you.”

Dan’s about to respond when Phil adjust himself in his trousers and then swings the door open. He takes a step out with one solid look back. Blue eyes wet with tears that Dan wants to wipe away. Phil shudders a breath, then nods, and leaves.

Dan walks out of the kitchen probably a bit too quickly, but he can’t stay in here to wallow in what’s missing. He finds Esther on the sofa in the bar and grabs her before saying anything. His face is practically pulsating with loss and what he wishes he could do right now but can’t. Esther asks no questions as they quickly come out into the cold.

It’s sobering, in every way, to see the pitch black night sky littered with stars and the fresh, freezing air hitting his face. He leaves his coat open as he rings a taxi to take them home.

“Dan, are you okay?” Esther asks once he’s ended the call.

She slides her arm alongside his.

“I am,” Dan responds.

He doesn’t have to think about it. He’s wonderful. He’s going on an adventure unlike any one he’s had and for once he’s not scared of the outcome. A text pops up from an unknown number as if on cue.

_We’re breaking up in a week._

Dan stares at the message. Esther looks at him in question. Another message comes through.

_I have to see you after. Wear purple for me?_

Dan breathes a wet laugh. He pushes his lips together to contain his smile.

_I’d wear a purple dinosaur costume if you asked me to._

It’s insane, and stupid, and probably too forward. But the bubbles indicating Phil’s typing come through immediately.

_A purple trench coat seems appropriate._

Dan grins.

_Nothing else, huh?_

_Don’t make me blush in front of my family._

Dan laughs again, but pockets his phone. Esther just smiles, tilting her head knowingly. Thankfully, she doesn’t comment. All she does is pet Dan’s arm reassuringly as they wait, out in the cold, and get inside the taxi once it arrives.

Dan never thought the night would turn into this.

With an ignited spark for what’s to come. With something to look forward to. With one saved sentence in his notes that sober him wouldn’t understand otherwise but that tonight he knows he’ll never forget.

_To buy: purple sherlock trench coat._

He saves Phil’s number. He wishes he had a picture of it to match. He promises himself to take one the next time they meet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Like/reblogs on [tumblr](https://intoapuddle.tumblr.com/post/182761133283/unveiled-pairing-danphil-rating-explicit-word) are always welcome :)


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